Taken
by ayameru
Summary: Sir Arthur Kirkland, one of the most notorious pirates in the world, took a rest stop at a small kingdom to stock up on food, supplies, and women. Little did he know that the defiant woman his men had brought was the brother of the young king.
1. Chapter 1

"How many did you get?" the blond man asked, lazily crossing his legs, fingers drumming on the armrest of his chair. He watched with a mild look of interest at the procession that was entering his well-furnished room.

"Ten, sir," one of his men replied, prodding a slower woman into the room with the tip of his rifle.

The man stood up slowly from his chair and walked around his desk, up to the line of women standing a quarter of a way into the room before him. He stared them all down one by one, eyeing their complexion, stature, and simple dress.

"I had heard," he sneered, finally stopping in front of the last girl. "That women in this kingdom were supposed to be beautiful…" He picked up her chin with his fingertips and studied her face which was filled with fear. He scoffed after a few moments belittlingly and let go.

"Gentlemen. These women are not going to sell for much of anything," he chastised mockingly. "I thought I asked for attractive wome…" he stopped midsentence, having spotted one he had not seen earlier. He walked over languidly to the small cluster of people a little distance away from the rest.

There were two men with guns holding the upper arms of a woman, which were bound by the wrist in front of her. She wore a very different type of clothing from the rest- one the man had only heard of in stories; something that looked like a robe, except made of dark, simple, yet fine quality cloth. Her rich black hair was cropped short, unlike most other women he had seen in the kingdom, whose hair mostly came down to their hips. The man also noticed quite quickly that the side of her face was mildly bruised, and she was also blind folded with a piece of cloth. He eyed the situation curiously. 

"Why is she blind folded?" he asked one of the men guarding her.

"Because…," the man replied, slightly flustered. "She took out four of our men in the other room, sir."

The blond man saw then that this man's exposed arm was rather badly bruised as well.

He snorted, putting his hand to the piece of cloth blindfolding her. "Oh, really now. I thought it was common knowledge that hands are to be bound as soon as the capturing is done."

"We did, sir," the man on the other side of the woman, clutching her other upper arm replied uneasily. "Her hands were tied…"

The captain raised his eyebrows, tugging at the cloth to unravel it from her face. "Oh, really now…" he murmured again, as he stared down at the girl, who slowly opened her eyes, adjusting to the bright lightening of the room. She finally looked up, eyes narrowed, and he felt a chill of delight run through his spine. The color of her eyes was beautiful, matching the dark hue of her hair, but shining with fire the other women lacked. He picked up her chin as he did with the other woman to study her face; she had pale, smooth skin, unlike the darker, suntanned ones of the women lined up on the other side of the room, and her dark hair was fine and silky. He could not help but lightly run his fingers through it, conscious of the girl's glare following his hand. But other than the movement of her eyes, she was almost completely still, giving off an eerie look of a statue with moving eyes that followed your movements.

"Now aren't you a pretty one," he smirked, raising her chin up a little more, ignoring the fact that she had clenched her small hands into fists. "I am Sir Arthur Kirkland," he declared. "The captain of this ship." He stared down into her eyes. "And you are…?"

The whole room fell silent as they all waited for her answer. When there was none after a long pause, Arthur moved his thumb up from under her chin, and pushed at the bruise at the corner of her mouth. He smirked in satisfaction as the girl grimaced.

"Are you mute?" he scoffed with a condescending smile. "What a wast-…" His sentence was cut off as he quickly yanked his hand back with a grimace. "What are you… an animal?" he growled, shaking out the hand, the middle of a finger now punctured, beaded with blood. When there was no response other than a defiant stare, he took a moment to slap her across her cheek, watching in satisfaction as blood trickled down the side of her mouth. Much to his irritation, however, he saw it curl up to a dark smirk, though her face was off to the side from the impact of the hit. Arthur roughly grabbed the other's face again, holding on tightly this time, his fingers away from anywhere near her mouth.

"I asked you…," he growled. "What your name was."

After a few moments of a glaring match, the other finally spoke. But it was not the response Arthur was looking for.

"I have no name to give to the likes of you," she whispered flatly, her voice clear despite the volume.

"Oh…?" Arthur sneered, staring straight down into the dark eyes. "You know… I've done many women… And I have broken many like you," he said, aware of the frightened murmur that went through the other side of the room. "You will end up no differently if you don't listen to me."

"Ah," the other smiled amicably, in a way that would have made any other man falter in confusion at the sudden change in expression. "I suppose you will be pleasantly surprised then."

The two stared at each other for a few more seconds in complete silence before Arthur gave a dry laugh, pushing the other away. In the process of letting go, he pushed hard enough to force her to stagger back, her guards having to scramble to keep her upright.

Arthur walked back briskly to his desk and turned around. "Take them down to the locked room," he ordered. "We'll sell them off at the next port."

"What do we do with her?" one asked, pointing to the isolated girl who was still glaring at him defiantly. Arthur took a moment of pause, then smirked. "Take her to the room in the basement," he replied, nodding up. "I'll break you," he declared, turning his head toward the girl, staring straight back at her. "You'll wish you never crossed me when I am done with you."

"Good luck," she smiled quite mildly. Had the context of the conversation been taken away, one would have had to assume that she was having a friendly conversation about the lovely weather. "I am afraid, however, that you will be unsuccessful."

Arthur noted the peculiar way she spoke, or rather, the way she enunciated some words, but decided it was trivial. He waved them all out of the room, seating himself back at his desk, folding his fingers together. He watched as the women were jostled out, the defiant one last to go.

He smirked. She had no idea what she had just gotten herself into, and Arthur had just begun to get bored of his routine life style. There was finally something interesting to play with in his life again.


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur slowly opened the heavy door to the secluded room. It was surrounded by storage rooms for all things random in the ship. It was brightly lit, as he had instructed, furnished only by a bed in one corner, a small desk in another, and a few wooden boxes in the other corner across the room from the bed. It was not meant to be comfortable- the lighting was far too bright, and the bed far too stiff to sleep on without waking up with an extremely sore back. But this was also why it was so effective in "breaking"- no one (except for a select few who enjoyed such things) wanted to buy a disobedient, strong willed, defiant woman. If he were to make a profit, he needed to beat (literally or not) the spine out of her.

He stepped into the room, taking a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the brightness of the room. He eyed the figure across the room, sitting on the hard bed, legs folded under. Arthur was not acknowledged, the person opting to stare at the wall across from the bed blankly, completely still. He leaned against the wall next to the door which slowly closed itself, propelled by its own weight. There was no significant movement from the other even as the door closed with a dull thud. He studied his prisoner, noting the paleness.

"I heard you've been refusing to eat," he started. He was not sure if the paleness of the skin was due to the light, the famine, or that the other was naturally that pale.

"You know you're going to die if you don't eat, right?" he asked, not sounded at all concerned. He waited for a few moments for a response, and pushed himself off the wall when he did not get one. It was to be expected- the captive had been reported to have not spoken a word or eaten anything in the three days that Arthur had left his prisoner isolated. The water pushed into the room from a small door at the bottom of the actual door, along with food, seemed to have been sipped, but there was no sign of the food having ever been touched. It was a simple show of defiance, Arthur knew. And he also knew that it won't go on for long.

"You know," Arthur said, pulling out a piece of paper from his chest pocket. "I've learned a few things about you in the past few days."

When there was no response again, Arthur strolled across the small room to stand a foot or two in front of his captive, and dangled the piece of paper.

"Prince Kiku, eh?" he snorted. "Who would have thought… You, a man."

When he found his prisoner eye the paper briefly, Arthur smirked. "They seem to be looking for you," he said, as he shook the paper. "But the photograph sure seems old, doesn't it? What were you, twelve? Thirteen?"

"… I do not know what you are talking about," his captive whispered hoarsely. "That is not me."

The piece of paper was a flier, printed on thick paper, branded with the royal seal. It showed a grayscale photo of a young boy in a full dress in the signature style of the kingdom's royal family, complete with a thick, decorated robe and a large hair piece. The boy was staring straight into the camera with a completely blank face, contrasting sharply to other children his age.

"Strangely enough though," Arthur continued, ignoring the comment. "We asked around about you, and no one seemed to have any idea." He put in a pause. "Or even that you existed in the first place until they saw this." He tapped the flier for emphasis. "Strange, don't you think?" His smirk widened when the other scoffed quietly and shifted away the gaze.

"And so I've been thinking," Arthur moved himself to get back into the other's field of vision. "Why does no one know about him? They know about the other younger siblings of the king, but why does no one know about this one?" Arthur watched smugly as the prisoner shifted eyes off to a spot on the wall on the other side of the room. "You're a bastard, aren't you?" He chuckled in triumph as the other's eyes narrowed, and shot him a dark glare.

"Hit a nerve?" he taunted, happy to have finally gotten the other's attention. "A hidden bastard child of the late king, eh?" His eyes glinted in cruel amusement. "A king for a father and a whore for a mother. How lo-" Arthur's taunting stopped abruptly as he was punched squarely in the side of his face by the other, who, livid with fury, was finally on his feet, only half a foot away from his captor. Arthur staggered to the side for a moment from the momentum, then pulled himself upright with a smirk, licking the blood off the corner of his mouth.

_Yes this- this was what he wanted to see. This fire blazing in the eyes._

"How DARE you…," the other hissed, eyes burning with fury.

"So it IS true," Arthur laughed mockingly. "Your mother must have gotten around well- to seduce a king!" He was able to finish his sentence this time, prepared for the hand being raised up to strike him again. He grabbed the other's wrist, gripping it tightly, and twisted it to the side.

"You know what else I learned?" he asked, without a pause. Ignoring the wincing from the tight grip, he began to push up the large sleeve, swatting away the other's hand that tried to claw him off. He finally got it pushed up past the elbow, and his eyes lit up in delight.

"I learned that every member of a royal family has a unique birthmark." He pressed on a patch of skin on the inside of the arm by the elbow, harshly enough to have the other grab his hand in pain, trying to pry him off.

"Not him, eh?" he smirked, letting him go, pushing him back into the pile of boxes. His prisoner fell back into the crates, breaking the pile, landing in a mess of them, groaning quietly in pain.

"So, Prince Kiku," Arthur purred, standing above him, staring down victoriously. "Not feeling too regal now, are you?"

Kiku glared up from the ground. "You knew who I am, and you still dared to disrespect me in this way?" he spat, slowly pushing himself back onto his feet, tugging his sleeve down. He could take most things with ease, but insults of his mother were not on the list of things he could digest.

"Quite frankly," Arthur laughed, cracking his knuckles. "I don't care who you are- I don't let things like ranks or money or some other stupid shite influence how I deal with people."

He grabbed Kiku by the wrist again, and pulled him up to himself. "All that matters to you right now is," he breathed into his ear. "That you are my prisoner, and I am your master. "

He saw a look of disgust cross the other's face, and successfully caught the hand that came extremely close to making yet another contact with his face.

"The first thing you need to learn is," he smiled venomously, transferring one of the wrists he was holding to the other hand to hold them both in one. Both of Kiku's thin wrists fit snugly in Arthur's hand, which he yanked harshly to pull him almost tripping on himself to the small desk in the other side of the room. Arthur pinned Kiku's hands down onto the surface of the table and brought his free hand to his hip, fumbling around his belt. Kiku found himself cringing, anticipating a gun being drawn. Instead, he found himself staring at a switch unclipped from his belt. "…that you should never raise your hand to your master."

Kiku's breath hitched in surprise and pain as the whip was brought down on the backs of his hands. He tried to yank them out of Arthur's hand in alarm, but the grip was too strong for him to even adjust his hands. He watched in horror as Arthur's mechanical strokes first severely welted his hands, then broke the skin, trailing beads of blood after it. Arthur stopped after about a minute and let go, watching with a sadistic smile as Kiku slumped to the floor, cradling one hand with the other, bending over them, biting his lip in pain.

Arthur shook the blood off the switch, and pushed Kiku's chin up with it. He merely smirked at the pain filled but still livid expression and walked away swiftly, stopping by the door.

"I will see you tomorrow, Prince Kiku," he sang, laughing lightly at the end. "Enjoy your day."

He walked out of the room, locking the door behind him with a dark smile. He called one of his sailors to bandage the prisoner, and walked back into his room, sitting down in his chair contently, laying the whip on the desk in front of him.

He knew Kiku was not broken yet. But he was planning on spending time on this new project of his, and enjoying himself while he was at it anyways.


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur suddenly found himself on the floor, his hands slamming down on the floor just in time to keep his upper body from making violent contact with the hard ground. He clicked his tongue in annoyance and looked up. He frowned at the figure above, who was holding his gun in both hands, mere inches away from Arthur's head. Kiku was breathing heavily, but he was trying to focus most of his attention keeping his hands steady, careful not to break eye contact. He smiled.

"I will kill you," he whispered, breathing erratically. "For everything you have done. Repent yourself in hell." His smile widened darkly.

"You can't kill me," Arthur smirked, unfazed. "Just look at your hands- you are shaking. You can't kill a thing like that."

"Shut up," Kiku growled, shifting his body to get a better position over the other, trying to steady his legs that had exhausted themselves with the small assault he brought upon Arthur. As a matter of fact, his whole body was shaking in fatigue and pain. He could not recall the last time he ate, and the wounds from the lashes on his back from earlier in the week were still fresh, stinging at every heavy breath.

He cocked the gun towards Arthur's temple, taking a few quick breaths to steady himself. He was on the verge of pulling the trigger when he heard a high pitched yelp from the doorway. He instinctively turned his head to see a small figure dart into the room, and slam himself into Kiku's side, causing him to lose balance and pull the trigger, hitting one of the wooden boxes piled high on the other side of the room. The box shattered into pieces, the contents flowing out onto the floor. Kiku flinched from the sound as he tried to push himself back up from the floor, only to find a young child repeatedly punching him with his small fists, half hysterically, straddled on his stomach.

"Don't hurt Arthur you jerk!" he wailed, punching Kiku's chest. The dark haired man could do nothing but stare down at the young boy, lost. He had conveniently forgotten the gravity of his situation until a group of men rushed into the room, alerted by the shrieking and the gun shot, and pounced upon him. They yanked the boy off his body, and the gun out of his hand. Before he could completely regain himself, Kiku was on his side on the floor, tasting blood in his mouth again as he was kicked around angrily. His consciousness was beginning to give way when he heard a loud clap. The men reluctantly stopped, one, two at a time, turning towards the sound. Arthur stood, completely recomposed, hands clapped together. When he was sure he had obtained everyone's attention, he made a point to wave the others out of the room.

"You, too, Alfred," he added as he peeled the blond boy off his leg. "I told you never to come in here."

"I-I-I'm gonna protect you!" Alfred wailed again, flailing his arms and legs as he was handed over by the collar to one of the cabin men.

"When you are ten years older," Arthur replied, knocking him lightly on the head, nodding to the men to usher them out of the room. "Well then."

He turned back to the black haired man curled up on the floor, breathing heavily. "That was certainly unexpected." He walked over to the prince and nudged him with the toe of his boot. He bent over to pick up the crop that had fallen by his foot earlier, and pushed Kiku's head up with it to look into his face. His eyes were half dilated, a wild look nestled within them. Adrenaline was pulsing through his body, regardless of the fact that it was screaming in pain everywhere. He slowly tried to move his chin away from the crop, and began to gingerly push himself back up, arms threatening to collapse under him.

"I thought you'd began to behave yourself," Arthur sneered, firmly placing one of his feet, clad in shin-high boots, down onto Kiku's back so that he could not push himself up any higher. The dark haired man grimaced, arms shaking. He attempted to twist his torso to push the foot away, and the pirate abided, laughing.

"But you look so good, groveling on the floor like that!" he taunted, toying with the whip in his hands. He stared back condescendingly into the other man's angered eyes, savoring the defiance that he thought was almost gone.

The young prince managed to push himself up this time, into a sitting position, and spent a few second breathing shallowly, attempting to keep himself from toppling back over again. He only grunted lowly in response to a quick swipe of pain that seared across his cheek, only an inch under his eye, glaring up at the other, who was poking his cheek with the crop, watching it bleed in fascination. Arthur walked up to him, staring down, his lips curled up in sadistic pleasure.

Kiku made to swipe the crop from near the new stinging cut, when the door slammed open again, and a small golden figure bolted towards him, this time cleanly pushing him over, sending him tumbling on the floor. In reflex, Kiku cuddled the boy's head to his chest, protecting it from plummeting onto the hard flooring, ending up falling onto his own shoulder. He grimaced, still gripping tightly on the boy, trying to ignore the pain that shot down his arm and back.

Almost immediately, he saw a thin barrel out of the corner of his eye, pointed directly down at his head, the bearer glaring down at him, eyes suddenly cold and livid, the previous looks of amusement and taunt gone.

"Let go of the boy," he growled, as Kiku made no movement to let go of the small blond who was flailing a little initially.

"Put the gun down… You are going to accidentally shoot him…," Kiku hissed back, glaring up at him, still making no moves, conscious of Alfred moving around a little in his arms, pushing his face into his chest, and clinging onto his kimono. Kiku blinked. "I cannot fathom that it must be too comfortable there…" he murmured, peering down into his arms, loosening it a little. Alfred was a perfect size to fit into his arms when he was curled up, he had to admit, and it made him somewhat nostalgic…

But nostalgic or not, it did not change the fact that his whole body ached, and his head was spinning. Even before Arthur could give a swift kick into his back or yell another warning, Kiku had completely loosened his grip on the young boy, and lost consciousness into the darkness.


End file.
